


Word requests

by That_one_edgy_writer



Category: N/A - Fandom
Genre: Cannibalism, Mild Gore, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_one_edgy_writer/pseuds/That_one_edgy_writer
Summary: One (or two!) Word requests because I dont have motivation to continue my story right now.
Comments: 1





	Word requests

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open to requests here and on my tumblr 
> 
> @That-one-edgy-writer

The cup seemed to slip off of the counter, the sound of delicate porcelain shattering was almost deafening. Another sound from above, as if the small teacup had angered the gods personally by simply existing. Tea covered the inside of the tub, and Valentina sighed. it had the same consistency as tar, the vial of the sinful substance that they'd poured in even making the tainted tea stain the tub. With a sigh they began picking up the pieces of the ruined cup, chastising themself for becoming attached to the simple object. To be consumed by such vanity was to welcome demons in, luring the hellish creatures with their greed and vanity. They had to at least pretend to believe that for the plan to work.

It took a few minutes for them to find more of the vile substance that would no doubt make the priest that locked them away  **lethargic¹** and far too slow to attempt to touch them. When Valentina glanced down at their wrists they nearly let out a soft curse, grabbing a towel and holding it against the crimson fluid that slowly dribbled from their hands. It was covered in oil and car fluids. It stung. They deserved it.

By the time the  stupid, stupid old man  priest had drank the second cup that they made, in plastic instead of something that would break, he was already half asleep. He was barely conscious enough to defend himself from the rolling pin they'd managed to sneak away from the kitchen. They grinned when he stopped resisting, their clothes had splatters of red on the plain fabric, staining it the disgusting color of the priest's blood. They wiped at it, smearing it over their shirt and sighed. It was still  **wet²** when they wiped their fingers onto his robes, pulling the keys from his pocket and opening the door. The rain made their aching legs feel somewhat better, each of the shallow cuts were thankfully scarred. Their shirt was wet. They were cold. _He deserved it._

One day they would use his bones to make some sort of furniture, until then the door would remain locked. With that, they made their way over to the mangled faces huddling around a disfigured corpse.

Finally some good fucking food.


End file.
